Can't Dance
by Thepopcornpup
Summary: "Suddenly, without a word, Jack pushed himself up and held his hand out towards Crutchie, who looked at his outstretched palm with confusion. 'C'mon,' Jack said, wiggling his fingers a bit. 'May I have this dance, Mr. Morris'" (One-Shot) (Jack and Crutchie brotherly fluff, as per usual)


**Author's Note: Well, hello! Thanks for clicking on this! So, guess who just watched Billy Elliot for the first time, listened to the Original West End Cast Recording, and is now very emotional over a small child with dance in his heart? Hint, hint: It's me. So, all these stirred-up dance emotions reminded me of a headcanon I read on Tumblr a while back about Crutchie dancing, and behold! This story was born! Plus, it's been a while since I've written some good old-fashioned Jack and Crutchie brotherly fluff. (And, by a while, I mean, it's been about a month.)**

 **Also, I snuck a song from the movie in here because, as I've proven from Sarah's various appearances in my other stories, I apparently have no respect for what stays in what universe. Sue me.**

 **So, yeah! I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, reviews always make me smile! Thanks for reading!**

* * *

It was a wet, cold and miserable day in Manhattan. Rain fell down in sheets on the cobblestones. "Just as Crutchie guessed," Jack muttered annoyedly as he walked swiftly through the downpour, trying in vain to block some of the water by holding his leftover papes over his head. (Of course, the famous Jack Kelly almost never had leftovers, but the weather had kept everyone who had a roof to protect them inside, which caused Jack to be in a far from good mood.)

Speaking of Crutchie, Jack hadn't seen him since lunch, which just worsened his already-sour mood. He knew that rainy days were often rough on Crutchie's leg, so he could only hope the poor kid's leg hadn't seized up some time while he was selling.

"Crutchie!" Jack called, glancing in every alley and around every corner, wherever he might find his brother. "Crutch, where are you? C'mon, Crutchie!"

He jogged all the way to the Lodging House with his make-shift umbrella of papes over his head, still with no sign of where Crutchie could be. "Shoot, kid," Jack mumbled. After a moment, he decided to check the Lodging House. He highly doubted he'd be there, since Crutchie rarely went back early, but it couldn't hurt.

Jack took the steps up to the room where they stayed two at time, shivering as he did so. He heard someone humming a jaunty, cheerful tune from the room above, which annoyed him, because who could be in such a good mood when today had absolutely sucked for him? But, it was also a bit comforting to know that someone was up there. When he reached the top, he was about to barge in, but he stopped when he spotted the boy he was looking for through the cracked-open door.

The source of the humming was, indeed, Crutchie. Jack peered in to see the younger boy standing in the center of the room, with the arm that wasn't around his crutch held put in front of him, as if around someone's waist. He stepped forward in time with the song he hummed with a certain bounce in his step. Stepping on his good leg, he decide to spin, turning around slowly but surely.

But, as soon as he'd made his way around, he locked eyes with Jack, who was still standing in the doorway, and froze, his humming ceasing immeadietly. "...hey, Jack." He mumbled, his face going a deep shade of red.

"Hey there, Crutchie," Jack was smirking, despite himself. "Didn't know you could dance."

Crutchie chuckled self-conciously, adjusting his soaking wet cap. "I wouldn't say I can dance..." He responded, still in a mumble.

Jack stepped inside, running a hand through his sopping, brown locks of hair. "Well, I dunno what else you'd call that, Crutchie," He grinned.

Crutchie simpered back, the blush on his face still incredibly prominent. "That was...nothin', it was nothin'," He stammered. "Now, uh, you look freezin'! You wan' me to get you a towel or somethin', Jack?"

"I can get myself a towel," Jack replied, noting his friend's effort to change the subject. As he walked into the bathroom to grab said towel, he asked, "So, if it wasn't dancin', what was it then? And, don't say nothin', bud."

Crutchie dragged his toe around in a circle on the floor, looking down embarrassedly as he did so. "I dunno, really," He responded with a shrug. "I was just...messin' around, really."

Jack stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around him like a blanket. "It was real good, Crutchie, whatever it was," Jack said, causing his best friend to turn an even deeper shade of red. "You'se got rhythm."

"Nah, don't say that," Crutchie smirked, brushing Jack's compliment aside with a wave of his hand. "I know I can't dance."

"Sure you can," Jack sat down on his bunk, wrapping a blanket around the towel that was already draped over his shoulders. "I just saw it meself."

Crutchie sat himself beside Jack, leaning his crutch up against the wall beside the bunk. "Don't improve the truth for me, Cowboy," He rolled his eyes as he said this. "I knows I ain't made for dancin'." He paused briefly before admitting, "I dunno, it's just somethin' I do sometimes when no one else is 'round here. I, uh, I used to dance pretty often before..." He trailed off and patted his leg. Jack nodded and Crutchie continued, "I mean, I didn't do nothin' too fancy; I was only about five or six before I got polio, but I danced everywhere. Around my house, down the street, in alleys...just bein' a little kid, ya know?" Another silence filled the air between them before Crutchie confessed, in a quiet yet earnest voice, "That's one of the things I really miss, next to runnin'."

Jack stared at the expression on his brother's face, which was bittersweet, with a just a hint of lingering embarrassment.

Suddenly, without a word, Jack pushed himself up and held his hand out towards Crutchie, who looked at his outstretched palm with confusion. "C'mon," Jack said, wiggling his fingers a bit. "May I have this dance, Mr. Morris?"

Crutchie chuckled, going red again. "Jack..."

Jack still awaited a response, and he clearly wasn't about to take "no" as an answer.

Crutchie glanced up at him, the small smirk on his face fading. "I-I can't..."

"'Course you can," Jack countered. "I saw it with my own eys, Crutch. Besides, I'se gonna help ya."

Crutchie sighed. "You ain't gonna let me outta this, are ya?"

"Nope," Jack beamed. "Now, come on,"

When the younger boy made no move to get up, Jack grabbed Crutchie's hand and pulled him up. On wobbly feet, Crutchie tried to grab his crutch, but Jack shook his head and said, "You don't need that, Crutch. Trust me."

Crutchie looked at his older brother warily. "Alrighty then," He mumbled, still unsure.

Jack led him to the middle of the room, holding both his hands. "Now, what was that tune you was hummin' before?"

"Jus' somethin' I heard at Medda's the other night," Crutchie answered.

"Gotta be more specific," Jack smirked. "Medda sing lotsa songs."

Crutchie rolled his eyes again. "I dunno, it was that one with the mayor," He replied. After a pause, he shyly sung, _"My good friend, the Mayor, he called me today."_

Jack joined in. _"He said, 'Medda, the voters are turning away.'_ Yeah, I know that one."

Crutchie smirked. "Well, of course, _you_ knows it. You're her regular customer."

Jack grinned back and said, "Okay, Crutch, now, I'se gotta warn ya, I ain't no expert at dancin myself. I'se got two left feet, ya know?"

Crutchie giggled. "I'll remember that,"

"Now, relax," Jack said, pulling Crutchie a little closer. "Just like you was before. Put your whole weight on me."

Crutchie did as Jack told him, feeling a grin play on his lips.

With that, Jack began to sing Medda's song quietly as he stepped to the side. _"High times, hard times, sometimes the livin' is sweet,"_

He met eyes with Crutchie and prompted him to follow his lead with an encouraging grin. _"Sometimes, there's nothin' to eat,"_

Crutchie stepped sideways tentatively on his good leg, a smile appearing on his face as he did so. Jack grinned back and sang, _"But, I always land on my feet!"_

Crutchie joined in as Jack helped him with the next step, which was on his bad leg. _"So, when it's dry times, I wait for high times and then,"_

Jack very slowly began to spin, completely holding Crutchie up for this move. _"I put on my best!"_

Crutchie smiled brightly as Jack spun him, lighting up the cloudy day. _"And, I stick out my chest!"_

Jack lost his balance suddenly, and, tripping his own feet, toppled over, bringing Crutchie down with him. Pushing himself up on his elbows, he looked at Crutchie and exclaimed, "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, kid! You okay?"

Crutchie sat up, in stitches. Through his laughter, he sang, _"And, I'm off to the races again!"_

Jack burst into laughter, feeling tears form in his eyes. "Told ya I had two left feet, Crutch!" He whooped. "Now, after that display, don't get tell me ya can't dance again, alright?"

Crutchie tried to respond, but he couldn't catch a breath to say something without falling back into his laughter. So, both boys sat on the floor, sopping wet and shaking with laughter, and Jack decided that it hadn't been such a bad day after all.


End file.
